Story 1272: Lover Turned Killer

Night cloaked the hills beyond the safehouse. Mist curled between the trees, silver under a sickle moon. Juno led the way down a narrow path, lit only by the flickering light of a cracked beacon pulled from the last outpost.

They didn’t talk much anymore. Every word cost breath. Every step was weighed by the dead behind them.

That’s when they saw the fire.

A faint glow through the pines.

Someone had built a camp. Clean. Silent.

Juno motioned for silence. Shade raised his rifle. H-13 held up a scanner—it pulsed green, then froze.

“One heartbeat,” he whispered. “Stable. Familiar.”

They moved in, weapons drawn.

And then Juno stopped.

Sitting beside the fire, sharpening a blade, was Caleb.

She lowered her weapon an inch, disbelief tightening her chest. “No…”

He looked up, slowly. Same eyes. Same scar under his jaw.

“Hello, June,” he said softly.